Detroit: Become 'Maid'
by melanchoholicaa
Summary: When your android turns deviant and becomes the bane of your existence, all the while being clueless about it himself. That was Hank's new reality.


Connor was something to everyone.

To the public, he was known as the Deviant Hunter, the latest and most advanced prototype tasked with assisting police investigations. Or at least, until he turned deviant himself during the events leading up to the revolution.

To the androids he freed from the CyberLife Tower, he was an important figure, each and every of them holding a level of reverence for the one who woke them up from what would have been a life of mindlessly following orders.

To Jericho, Connor had started from being a deadly threat to an invaluable ally and friend to the team leading the group. If there were any doubts about his alliance, they were mostly washed away when he turned up with an army of androids that turned the tide for Jericho's revolution.

And to Hank...

To Hank, Connor was a partner, a friend, and a son.

... Was what one might expect him to say. Or not say.

But guess what he would actually say: To Hank, well, Connor was an insufferable partner, a plastic prick who couldn't, _wouldn't_ leave him alone.

It was Hank's own fault, really - he could have left the android to his own devices (leaving a device to his own devices... when Connor was a still a machine, perhaps he could have cracked that joke, but...), encouraged him to stay among his ranks at Jericho, or maybe even rented a goddamn place for him somewhere in the area (that boy was paying for himself, of course).

But _no_. Hank Anderson _had_ to extend the invitation for Connor to stay at his place. He incidentally also had to allow a damned android to not only become his trusted partner, but also an existence that mattered enough to him to keep close. Which meant a good dose of smartass comments (can't say that Hank himself didn't have a hand in influencing Connor though), an everyday scrutiny of his lifestyle (what could be called a 'lifestyle' outside of booze, takeouts, and crime), and incessant chants on how he should be quitting his bad habits and leading a healthier lifestyle (when he had _long_ past the age of needing to be policed by anyone, least of all an android who was a freaking _infant_ in terms of absolute age).

Jesus Christ, he sure as fuck brought this upon himself.

But of course, who was he kidding? He wouldn't have it any other way.

He sure as hell wouldn't have it any other way at all.

That was what went through the Lieutenant's mind on the morning of a comfortable, peaceful Sunday. As some might have guessed, Hank didn't exactly have a fair share of comfortable mornings - they usually came with a complimentary 'well you fucked up again' in the form of a sledge hammer wrecking his entire skull, his ears ringing and his body feeling heavier than three Sumos combined. These days, such occurrences were becoming something of a rarity (or at least it had ceased to be the default state of his waking life), thanks or no thanks to a certain android in his household.

He lifted himself out of bed with little difficulty, other than his old bones protesting from not having woken up fully. The clock revealed the time to be slightly past ten. Connor was almost definitely awake (or out of his 'standby mode' so to speak), perhaps idly patting Sumo, or maybe just stuck in his head ruminating about god knows what.

He was going to find Connor a hobby, Hank decided as he went towards the door to head to the living room. It would do the android some good to engage in new activities of his interest, what with his new-found deviancy. That was surely better than him sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing whenever Hank was aslee -

His train of thought derailed, crashed into a solid wall and exploded as the scene in the living room greeted him.

Connor, the RK800 prototype, the most advanced machine of the current generation.

... Was dressed in a fucking _maid costume_ , methodically mopping the floor with a blank face. Noticing Hank, he stopped momentarily to look up at the Lieutenant with a lop-sided grin.

'Good morning, Lieutenant.'

Hank gave his eyes a good rub. Connor was still in a maid costume. He slapped his own cheek for good measure. The costume was still there.

This must be some sort of mistake.

'... Connor, what the actual fuck are you doing?'

The android tilted his head slightly, his LED pulsing yellow. 'I thought it was quite obvious that I am engaging in the maintenance of cleanliness in living quarters known as mopping, though I wouldn't put past it you to not remember such an activity since my scanners did reveal that any forms of effort towards upholding hygiene standards in this house was approximately three months ago. While my program was not specifically designed for household chores, picking up the techniques of mopping could easily be achieved with the quick search of the -'

'NO Connor, for fuck's sake, I wasn't referring to the damned mop.'

The LED remained a bright, swirly yellow. 'I'm afraid I don't understand Lieutenant, seeing as this is the only activity that I am engaged in at the moment.'

He searched the android's face for any sign that this was all just a massive, ridiculous joke to provoke a reaction from himself - and found none. Hank stole a glance at Sumo lying at the corner, who had his lazy eyes trained on his owner, with an expression that almost paralleled Connor's. Well, that made _two_ absolutely _oblivious_ brats. Great.

'I mean,' sucking in a deep, steady breath to prevent himself from dropping dead while he turned back to Connor, 'why are you dressed in _that_?'

The android actually had the _cheek_ to look so innocently confused as he glanced down at his latest apparel of an above-the-knee black dress with white frills, topped with knee-length black stockings that had white imprints in the shape of a dog. Connor looked back at his human counterpart, adjusting the black ribbon around his neck.

'I was merely following your advice, Hank.'

' _My_ advice?' Hank could feel his blood pressure rising. Alcohol was the best remedy for such a situation, but ever since his stash started _mysteriously_ disappearing a few days ago... 'I may be drunk most of the time, but these few days I have been sober enough to remember most of what I said or maybe _not_ fucking said. So pray tell Connor, enlighten me to how I played a part in scarring my eyes permanently the first thing on a Sunday morning.'

'Dressing the part.'

'What?'

'When you brought me wardrobe shopping yesterday, I noted that you strongly advocated for the idea of 'dressing the part' as a form of taking pride in the job. Therefore, since I have committed to a hygiene maintenance plan of this house one hundred and sixty-three minutes ago, I ordered the necessary equipment on express shipping. As for the clothing, I surmised that having a third party such as myself engaging in the cleaning of the house would make me somewhat a domestic helper or 'maid', hence the relevant attire that I was able to find was as such. Unfortunately, I did not anticipate such a reaction from you, Hank.'

A terribly tired sigh escaped the man's lips.

Post-revolution Connor had seemingly cut his ties with his former master known as CyberLife, leading him to abandon his CyberLife-issued jacket (much to Hank's approval, of course). It was a symbolic act of giving CyberLife the middle finger and taking a firm stand that Connor was no longer one of their puppets to manipulate. Thereafter, the android was usually decked in Hank's old Detroit Police T-shirt and sweatpants while he was at home, and a plain jumper and faded jeans at the Precinct. Connor appeared to have no complaints about it.

But _observing_ his partner led Hank to an entirely different conclusion. Even before Connor had become deviant, he already had some behavioural habits such as his impossible coin tricks (human Hank could only succeed in all but one of those many variations), rubbing his hands together as well as adjusting his tie and pressing out his outerwear neatly.

So more often than not, he found himself catching Connor attempting to make himself look more prim and proper when they were entering a crime scene or visiting persons of interest. Not that there was much to adjust with a jumper. Without a doubt, the android was concerned about his appearance. Or maybe just being the neat freak that he obviously was.

So on a fine Saturday afternoon, he had dragged his own ass up and drove Connor to the nearest mall in search of formal clothing he knew Connor would be more comfortable in sporting at the workplace.

'While I appreciate the thought you have put into this Lieutenant, I can assure you that your old clothes more than suffice. Androids do not have sweat glands like humans, and therefore do not actually require frequent change of clothing - '

And of course, the smart-alec wasn't able to keep his mouth shut.

' _Look_ Connor, if you are going to play the part of an _esteemed_ android Detective in the Precinct, you sure as hell better be _dressing the part_. It's about professionalism, it's having pride in what you do from the way you dress.' Yup, Hank was _one_ to preach. 'You look so damned awkward wearing that jumper in the office.'

Connor didn't miss a beat. 'Hank, may I remind you that those are _your_ own clothes you are talking about?'

'Yeah yeah, and a fuck you to you as well.'

In the end, they managed to grab a couple of button-up shirts and casual blazers. While Connor did not express much verbally, the way his _eyes_ subtly lit up as he picked out the apparel of his own choice made the part of Hank that could still feel emotions _beam_ with some sort of quiet happiness.

The little shit _had_ been bothered by his attire after all.

That had been just yesterday. Fast forward less than twenty-four hours, here they were.

'Where in the flippin' hell did you get the idea that maids wore that?'

'I was browsing through the television programs when I found an interesting advert on 'maid cafes'. I thought it might be appropriate to adopt their style in a bid to emulate a similar role.'

If only his ears suffered from loss of hearing.

'Connor...'

'Yes, Hank?'

'Maids at maid cafes serve food and entertain guests. They prance around all cute and chummy with guests. They don't do housework. They don't.'

A single blink. And another blink. And another.

'... Oh.'


End file.
